Fathers and Sons From a Distance
by Sagga Bott
Summary: and Chase find out that Chase’s father is still alive and it changes the relationship between them. HouseChase, slash, read the warning!


Pairing: House/Chase

Rating: PG-13

Summary: House and Chase find out that Chase's father is still alive and it changes the relationship between them. House/Chase, slash, read the warning.

Warnings: Incest (sort of. It's complicated.)

Author's note: I'm bored. My head hurts. I figured why not. Yeah, that's the excuse I'm going with.

_**Fathers and Sons From a Distance**_

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm going to get tested! You need a liver and they're in short supply."

Greg House, currently a patient in the very hospital in which he worked, stared at the younger man. It had been so long since he'd been a fellow under House. Nearly eight years and so much had happened since then.

"You can't," Greg told him. He was tired weak and his yellowish eyes might have been scaring his honorary niece. She was only two. Her older brother was at school. He was five years old, smart like his father, blonde hair too, and the three Chase's together were the joy of Greg House's life. But there were secrets –so many secrets. House had burdened himself to carry them all. He thought it was the least he could do after all the hurt he'd caused. "Grace and Nathan need you."

Robert sighed and shifted closer. His daughter was reaching out to her much-loved uncle but couldn't cross the short span to the bed. Once in reach she touched him. Her small hands held onto one of his fingers and Greg smiled lightly. A larger, stronger hand covered both of theirs.

"I'm getting tested. We'll figure it out."

Greg looked away a closed his eyes. He could see it all coming down around him. He'd rather die with his secret.

**_Six years ago…_**

"So that's it then?" Chase asked, barely a hint of a tremor in his voice. His eyes however, were full of hurt and pain. That's why House didn't look at him, couldn't look at him.

House didn't respond. Head hung, eyes on the floor, he listened as the best thing in his life walked away. The door closed with a slam and Greg winced. There was a strong urge to follow, to take back his words and sink into the embrace to which he'd grown so accustomed.

Nearly two years they'd been seeing each other. For nearly a year House had known he'd been in love. Eventually he'd said it and Chase had replied in kind. It was one of the best days of his life. And then his accursed mind had put together an almost thirty-year old mystery from his days as a young man. They could have lived together for so long, blissfully unaware of their true connection.

Chase had told him he'd been acting strangely for the last week. House had snapped at him and Chase didn't bring it up again. He hadn't meant to go off like that but it was just taking so long. It seemed like eons passed. He'd made his excuses why he couldn't see Chase and why Chase couldn't come over. Wilson noticed too and happened to question him at a moment when he was weak and the truth, and what he feared was the truth spilled out.

"Her name was Heather. She was from Australia. It was just one night. She wanted to get back at her husband. And I…I…"

"And you just didn't care."

House didn't like the implication in Wilson's voice that this was his fault and he had a curse on his tongue. He realised that this was his fault before he spoke, so he didn't.

"I didn't know," he said lowly. "I really didn't know."

"You still don't know for sure," Wilson said hopefully.

Would it be cliché if he said he could feel it in his bones? Because he could. So when finally the results came back confirming his suspicions he shouldn't have been surprised. He was though. And the implication made him ill. He wasn't sure if he managed to call Wilson. He wasn't sure if Wilson just had some sort of Spidey-sense when it came to him.

It was a broken shivering mess that James found that afternoon in his best friend's apartment. He'd managed to drag himself in to the short corridor but had stalled there and remained leaning against the wall until James had come, changed him out of his clothes and settled him into his bed. His mumbling was completely intelligible and Wilson understood that again, House had been right about his hunch.

"He is. He's my son…I didn't know. Oh God, I didn't know."

* * *

From that day on, the relationship between Robert Chase and his former boss Greg House was over. Chase didn't understand why. He twisted himself into knots trying to understand. House simply said that it had to end, that they had to move on. Chase had asked what he'd done wrong. Wanted to know what he could do to fix it. Greg had not responded cruelly. In fact his eyes had sheltered some pain and some urge that Chase would not completely understand until years later.

Wilson had not been helpful either. His answers were always short and empty as though he was holding something back. Chase could only assume that it was because Wilson was House's friend first, and his distantly second. He encouraged Chase to simply accept it and move on and though he struggled Chase had been forced to.

Sullenly, tiredly he'd begun dating again. He avoided House while at the hospital which wasn't hard to do. In the moments when they did cross each other's paths they couldn't meet the other's eyes.

"If your situation was happening to anybody else you'd be telling them that it wasn't a big deal since no offspring would ever be in jeopardy. And you would have told both of them," Wilson said to his silent companion as they walked back from the cafeteria.

"This isn't anybody else!"

He hadn't changed his diaper when Robert had been an infant. He hadn't bathed him when he was still a toddler. He hadn't taught him to ride a bike, or put a band-aid on his knee when he fell off. All these moments he'd been robbed of and Robert had been robbed of a real father. He knew from the nights they'd spent together recounting unhappy childhoods that Robert had taught himself to ride a bike and tended to his own cuts and scrapes.

House wondered whether Chase Sr. had known of his wife's infidelity and known of the paternity of the child she bore. It would make a lot of sense. What type of father doesn't say a word to his son for over a decade? A father who didn't know he had a son.

* * *

"They're asking for you in the diagnostics department again."

Chase didn't even turn to the nurse. "Tell them I'm busy." He was busy writing new orders for an ICU patient, though in a minute or two he'd be relatively free, unless he found some work for himself. He'd been avoiding diagnostics for some time now. When his fellowship had ended and he'd been offered a position as a permanent staff of the diagnostics department and in the ICU when diagnostics was without patient, he'd accepted. Princeton had become his home. He'd had no desire to move somewhere else. Australia just didn't seem right, though he would visit often, and the rest of the USA was as foreign as New Jersey had been when he'd first arrived. So PPTH it was. Now though, he'd been shirking his duties to diagnostics, replying to the messages that he was busy even when he wasn't. He planned on doing the same thing this time because he wasn't ready to be in the same room as him and not share subtle glances and secret smiles.

"It's coming from Dr. Cuddy," the nurse told him.

Chase resisted the urge to slam the chart shut knowing the flapping sound wouldn't be at all satisfactory. An order from Cuddy could not be ignore or written off. He'd have to go to her to get the assignment pulled but as much as she might like him –they went for lunch on occasion starting from when she suddenly became much less scary after having her son –she wouldn't let his personal problem interfere with the running of her hospital.

He arrived in a sullen mood that the three current fellows refrained from making comment on. They were young, bright, eager, and Chase really didn't have a problem with them. Those who rotated through the diagnostics fellowship always seemed to make it to him eventually, either looking for advice with how to deal with their boss and the ethical dilemmas he brought about or with dealing with general hospital issues, such as patients and staff. House was the departmental head and Chase was the executive officer dealing with all the people issues and, dealing with the paper work that House still refused to do.

"Glad you could join us," House greeted him as he walked in but didn't look at him. Chase wanted to snap at him, yell at him but he knew better than to do it in front of an audience. Besides that, he had nothing to complain about at the moment. House had greeted him, evenly, almost friendlily. More than anything it just confused Chase who sat through the differential, only adding his opinion at the end. The three fellows rushed to do the work House didn't deign to do and Chase was on his way out when House called him back.

"Robert, wait."

Chase turned around. House could see he was almost fuming from the use of his first name. Under the impressive glare of hurt and anger House forced out his question.

"Can we w…" –that wasn't quite right. "Can we work together?" More emphasis on 'can' this time making his question sound like the plea that it was.

Chase looked down at his shoes. "I don't really have a choice, do I," he stated. His eyes flicked up to the blue ones he'd spent so much time looking into before, then away.

House watched him go, off to procure a spot for their patient in the hospital and supervise the new fellows.

"Everything okay?" Cuddy popped her head into House's office to ask as she was passing by.

"Fine," House nodded, sitting morosely behind his desk. Cuddy gave a small answering nod and went to leave. "Thanks!" House yelled at her before she was out of earshot. She looked back at him through the glass walls and gave an understanding smile. House had asked her to request Chase' presence in diagnostics because all of his previous summons had resulted in nothing. This time Chase had been forced to show up and House had taken the first step towards mending what he'd broken. Only this time he hoped to build it differently.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Chase anymore. He liked him, that wasn't even remotely an issue. What was, was how he liked him. Early on when they were only fellow and department head House had liked Chase in the vague, sort-of-reminded-him-of-himself kind of way. Liked to pick on him, bounce balls off his head, antagonize him and he wasn't sure why. Testing limits he supposed. Chase seemed to have a boundless tolerance for morons. He could only recall one isolated incident when he did snap at someone, and it hadn't been House. It had been a patient or a nurse or another doctor, somebody insignificant in House's opinion. They'd done or said something stupid, repeatedly and arrogantly and Chase finally let them have it. A few of the spectators had applauded when it was over and when Chase returned to the diagnostics room, House decided to mark the red letter event.

Grinning like when he'd deduced soft-hearted-for-kids-Chase had given in to the young cancer patient's dying wish and kissed her, House hugged him. Cameron, Foreman and Chase had all been shocked. "I'm so very proud of you," House told him when he pulled away but still held Chase by the shoulders. Chase had been somewhat disturbed by they gesture but there was still the slight tinge of happiness at having made someone proud. And though the gesture was half a joke there was still the part of the sentiment that was true and that meant a great deal to him.

Yes, Chase had found a special place in his heart even before House realized it. And when Chase came on to him after his fellowship was over and after he'd been made almost equal to House in the hospital, House had given in. What was there to stop him? There was that small part that said this wasn't right but mostly he'd pushed it aside and whatever he felt morphed into lust and a different kind of affection.

Even now, when he knew the whole tainted truth he still felt the stirs of arousal when he had a stray thought of Chase's body. And how sick did that make him feel. He didn't even like to think anymore about the almost two years they'd spent together. The nights, mornings and afternoons they'd intimately touched each other. All those things he did to his son, his flesh and blood. The guilt and shame, had made him sick when they'd first become real, and they still managed to make him ill if he thought about those once cherished memories too much.

So that book was closed and House attempted to write a new one with the same characters.

* * *

"So…you like her?" House asked.

"Yeah," Chase nodded, eyes on his drink.

"A lot?"

"Yes."

That hurt but more of him felt good, felt proud.

"You gonna propose?"

A small velvet box was pulled out and dropped on the bar top. "When I have the guts."

House stared at the small object. It marked for him Robert's official moving on with his life, leaving his broken and sealed, thought never quite understood relationship with Greg House behind him. He'd picked up what was left of his heart and eventually gone back to dating. There had been one man but that had been too much and he ended that relationship early.

It was actually House that set Chase up with the woman who now he considered proposing to, though Chase didn't know it. He'd met the woman in the clinic and having sensed something about her, sent her Chase's way. The rest was history. Since the day Chase had come back to work regularly with diagnostics House had worked relentlessly on fixing what was between him and Chase. When he noticed the attention Chase had thought that House was willing to try again and had approached what he thought was an opportunity to get back what he'd had with caution. The caution had saved him because it became apparent quite quickly afterwards that House didn't want to be anything but his friend.

He didn't understand. How could he?

House would show up at his apartment and help him out when he was sick with the flu or a bad cold, or whatever the clinic patients happened to give him. He invited Chase to buy him lunch but sometimes paid for himself and sometimes for both of them after dragging Chase with him. After that incident with the drunken patient in the ER with the scalpel and Chase's ill position abdomen, House had been almost sick with worry, practically fussing over Chase in his casual, almost uncaring manner of caring.

"Just let him," Wilson had said to him with a smile when Chase was recuperating and Robert could see no alternative. Even when he complained relentlessly, pushed House away, slammed doors in his face and hung up on him, House remained a constant presence. It brought Chase to tears some lonely nights, being so close to what he wanted so much but not allowed to touch it. Mind heavy with confusion, heart heavy with emotion requited in a different form from the one he wanted to give, Robert accepted what he could get. It would later become what he needed but he didn't understand.

"How much did you spend?" House asked about the ring. He opened up the small, dark box and examined the token of love and promise within. The top of the ring, the prominent, eye-catching sparkle was from the high quality, expertly cut piece of carbon. It was mounted to rise up with a graceful slope from the circle of the piece of jewellery and crafted and fixed with six small platinum fingers to match the rest of the ring. It sparkled like a small star even in dim lighting of the bar House had dragged Chase to but at first glance it looked like a snowflake captured timelessly. Down the slope at either side of the large diamond and along the top half of the band was a sequence of smaller stones, diamonds of increasingly stronger shades of pink until the last stones were reached the brightest, clearest, red rubies, one on each side. It was completely, undeniably beautiful, perfectly unique and very, very expensive. House felt like he was wasting a fortune just looking at it.

Given the design and the set of the stones House knew Chase had spent a great deal of time trying to find the right ring to express his feelings. He still remembered how shy Robert was with expressing the deepest sentiments and he knew that if the woman was smart she'd say yes to everything Chase was offering with this ring.

"You should ask her."

"She might say 'no'." He really did sound worried and the thought of being rejected was obviously an issue given the tight grip he had on his glass.

"If she's as smart as you say she is, she won't," House assured, snapping closed the box and then giving the other man a pat on the back. He let his hand rest there for a moment before squeezing gently the base of his neck and letting go. "She'll say yes."

And she did.

_**Present…**_

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Wilson asked, still looking boyish and distinguished even with the few lines and the bit of white in his hair.

"Yeah, of course. It won't be easy for House to get on the liver transplant list, especially if his drug abuse history should come to light." It was his precious drug, his Vicodin that finally did his liver the damage the warning label had threatened. Being mid-fifties, with no family, House wasn't an ideal candidate. His best chance was to get a piece of a friend's liver.

Wilson watched Chase settle his daughter on his lap, facing away from the arm that would have the needle stuck in it. He held her securely with his other, though she did squirm some, and offered his free arm for the blood sample. Wilson still hesitated.

"What about your kids?"

"They're perfectly healthy." A gift he was reminded almost daily of as he worked in the hospital. "They don't need my liver."

Wilson smiled wryly and shook his head. "I hate it when you sound like him."

Chase just grinned wider. Wilson took the blood, knowing what could be unearthed and hoping for it. It was long past time Chase knew the truth. If he was a match Wilson wouldn't let Chase make the offer of part of his liver without knowing the truth. He knew that Chase would not disappoint him…or his father.

**_Three years ago…_**

"Why is he even here?" Major Jonathan House snapped as he watched his son sit with the Australian man and his two children; eight months and three years old.

"Because…" his wife, Blythe drawled, "He's lost an important part of his family and needs some support. Wouldn't you want some if I was killed by a drunk driver?" She asked up at him with a smile. John's face pulled in slight frown and his face hardened. He knows he would miss her, miss her badly. He just doesn't know if he can articulate it.

Blythe was quick to placate him. "Don't worry," she kisses him on the cheek and hands him a small vegetable and dip tray to take out into the living room. "I won't make you say it."

John was still frowning when he entered the room with his son and his son's former boyfriend. The 'former' part didn't ease the sting of it at all and John barely managed to keep himself from dropping the plate of vegetables on the coffee table and letting his son and his guest pick them up from where some would undoubtedly scatter on the floor and table.

"Thank you, sir," Chase says politely though he was well aware of the hostility the older House male harboured against him. It made him keep his kids close. He trusted Greg and Blythe with them, they loved them, seemed to love him too, though Chase was somewhat confused about that. Major House was another story. When House and Chase were still together, Blythe and John had dropped by to see their son again. It was a weekend, they'd had no patient and they spent their free weekend together doing what they usually did. When his parents had come over, announcing themselves just outside his door while they knocked, House had made the split second decision to tell them about the relationship.

Chase had been wary but no amount of persuasion was going to stop House when he'd made up his mind. All he could do was offer support when the words came out and his parents retreated with shock, and John House with angry, hurtful words at both of them. When there was a knock on his door later on, House and Chase had known that it would only be her. Blythe returned without her husband and granted her acceptance of their relationship. Later, when she saw how happy her son was with the blond man, she would give her blessing as well.

Blythe entered the living room again with four glasses of lemonade and one sippy-cup of the same from young Nathan. Just several months old, baby Grace was only drinking milk and some other liquids, and eating mashed up veggies. Breast milk was off the table and Chase was left to do the best he could with formula. Grace seemed to be doing well, adapting to the absence of her mother. Nathan as well, though he still asked where his mother was and demanded her on occasion. Explaining to one so young the concept of death, of never seeing someone you love again had stabbed at the festering wound that was the death of his wife but with help they were getting by.

"Mom, watch this," House said excitedly from the floor where he'd been amusing himself with a being that he just barely seemed to outmatch in maturity. There was a clear area in front of him, Chase with Nathan to the right by the coffee table and John House sitting on the couch. Blythe stood in front of her son and the baby, a few feet away and waited.

With a smile, House put the baby down on her tummy and let go. It didn't take long before the exuberant little girl was crawling. Blythe clapped her hands together and practically cheered. The proud father smiled. Nathan copied the older woman and clapped his hands together too.

"Oh, you did so well, Sweety!" Blythe cooed to the little girl when she made it to her. "You're so fast, and so pretty." She picked up the little girl and gave her a kiss on the belly, then the forehead and cradled her in her arms like she'd done with Greg so long ago.

House smiled at his mother, then Chase, then ruffled the blond hair of his Nathan. His father watched it all, what felt like a family moment, but didn't join in. He'd blamed Robert Chase for corrupting his son, for changing him. He still blamed him and didn't want anything to do with a man who could love both sexes. He felt his son's tryst with Dr. Chase was a one time event and without him Greg would be normal. Greg thought his dad could go to hell. He hated him; he thought he had good reason. He'd told Chase some stories of his youth. Chase had agreed he had good reason.

Chase supposed two to one was a pretty good ratio for the number of good people in a family. His and been zero to three. Sometimes he'd look at his children though, think of his wife, his late wife, and think that maybe he wasn't so bad.

God, he missed her. He tickled his son loving the sound of his laugh. He picked him up and handed him to House needing a bit of space suddenly. He gave House's worried glance that looked a lot like suspicion a wane smile and turned his head away.

They'd almost been heading for divorce. Some hard work and a marriage counsellor later things where looking up. She'd just gone out to visit with a friend, leaving the children's father in charge for the night. She'd laughed at his bewildered look as she handed him Grace who was still crying for no apparent reason. They'd changed her diaper, fed her, burped her, and lavished attention on her. Chase had even checked her for anything medically wrong –nothing. Seemed she just felt like crying. She'd given them all a kiss goodbye, Robert's being the last and the longest and pranced out of the house with a bright smile.

The next time he'd see her, she was cold on a slab in the morgue. He remembered stumbling away tears in his eyes and small hands trying to comfort him. After that existing was all he was able to do. The bits of emotion he could still find were only for his children. The rest of his strength was required just to hold him together and to keep their bereft family running. It was just barely enough and that's when House, who'd been helping out all along, really stepped in, insisting on a trip out of state. The best place he could think of was to see his parents, his mother who'd been nagging him for ages to visit and bring Chase who, when Greg called was who he talked about the most.

So the still depressed widower, his two motherless kids and his gimpy friend arrived. Thankfully the small house the older couple now resided in didn't have room for all their guests so when Chase decided to stay in a hotel nearby, House did the same, both to keep an eye out for the lost man and to avoid the Major.

"You okay?" House asked quietly of Chase once Nathan was busy with a toy.

Chase wiped his eyes, they were glassy but no tears were yet threatening. "I guess I will be."

House gave him a small hopeful smile and nudged him gently with his elbow. Chase pulled himself back together and turned to the four playing people to join in.

They were a family though only two of the six people in the house knew it.

_**Present…**_

The test results didn't take long to come back. Of the few people who offered the best match was from a family member. Against his wishes Greg's parents were going to get tested too but House was never going accept a liver donation from them. They were too old to be able to recover from such a traumatic surgery and House didn't want to be any more of his father than he already was.

"He's a match huh?"

"Almost perfectly. You're lucky," Wilson informed him.

House didn't agree. "No if I were lucky, he'd be a terrible match and that would be the end of it. In fact even as it is, this is the end of it. He doesn't need to know."

For being so incredibly smart Wilson sometimes had to wonder about the stupid decisions House made. He wasn't sure whether he could blame it all on House's aversion to change. That didn't seem fair to change.

"Yes he does, House. He needs to know a lot of things."

"I'll refuse any surgery."

"I'll still tell him. I knew his father was going to die once and I couldn't say anything."

"Yes, you could have. You could have dropped a hint, told him to call Rowan, told him something." House didn't call Rowan Robert's father anymore. That was his title and since he'd known about it he'd done his best to fulfil it from a moderate distance.

Wilson sighed in defeat. "You're right I could have," but he wasn't deterred from his point. "This time I will tell him. You know he deserves to know. And you know he'll do the right thing. That's what scares you. You can love him like a son and accept what he gives you in return but you're afraid if he knows, he won't be able to love you like a father. You think he'll take away the people you've brought close." Wilson moved to stand over his almost prone friend. "I'm telling you you're worrying for nothing."

House just stared up at him for a moment then said. "I'm telling you you're an idiot."

Wilson shook his head. He waved the test results at House then left, presumably to tell Chase.

**_Three years ago…_**

"She okay?"

"Yeah. A little restless but she's settled. Nathan?"

"Bladder emptied, teeth brushed, tucked in," House reported with a salute.

Chase smirked. He touched a kiss to his little girl's head, turned on the baby monitor and turned off the light. House had moved to lean against the outside wall. He was wearing his old, faded, black T-shirt, some archaic band logo displayed proudly on the front. Chase loved those shirts. House had bought him one for the last Christmas and though he didn't recognize the group he still adored the shirt.

Greg's had a short piece of white thread disturbing the black that was more of a grey now. He reached out and plucked it off. He brushed the fabric lightly with his fingers removing whatever debris he imagined to still be there and his hand settled. The warmth of the older man's chest the familiarity of his scent, his long nights alone and Robert stepped forward closing the distance between them. Without a spoken word he tilted his face up hoping to catch his old lover's lips. House turned his head away.

"Please." Chase would settle for any part that he could reach so his lips touched at the taller man's neck.

"Robert, stop!" House dropped his cane. He grabbed Chase by his upper arms and held him away.

"Please," he asked again. Desperate, pleading eyes begged for just one night's worth of touches. He was so busy, so alone and House…he was here. He was real. He was warm. He was a memory of shared happiness that had ended so suddenly sometimes he still found himself reeling.

"No. We can't." Looking into the sea and sky eyes made House's heart ache. He pulled Chase into a hug and rested his chin on the blond head. "We can't," he said again. He felt Chase clutch at his shirt. House held him tighter. "You're confused, depressed. You don't mean this." House swallowed. "You can't mean this." He ran a hand to through the hair that felt like he remembered though not as long. This time though there was no accompanying urge to possess, to make love to this man. There was still an inkling of something not quite paternal but if there was any more than that Greg ignored it extremely well.

"I just…I…"

"I know."

"Daddy," the soft call interrupted a minute later. Head down Robert pulled away to tend to his son.

_**Present…**_

"Wilson tells me there's news," Chase said as he sat down in a chair next to the bed.

Wilson stared pointedly at House who was looking weaker with every passing day. Wilson's eyes say "tell him, or I will." When House hesitated for too long Wilson speaks. "There's a match."

"That's great!" He looked excitedly at one man then the other and noticed they don't have the same expression as he. "It is good news, isn't it?" Or had all his years of med school and then practice confused him about this?

"Chase, you're the best match."

He knew Wilson wouldn't lie about something like that so he didn't question the information. "Wow. Okay. I've been talking to some friends of mine just in case. They're willing to take care of Nathan and Grace—"

"Chase, stop," House interrupted and Chase stopped talking. He took a deep breath. "You're the match, almost perfectly."

Chase knew the chances of that were low. He couldn't imagine House lying about that though, so he was just going to shrug it off as a coincidence, one that could save the life of a very dear friend.

"Wilson, show him," House said then turned his head away.

Staring with confusion at the sullen man Chase accepted the papers with the comparison. The blood types matched –not unusual. As he read on however he began to see what the other obvious explanation was. Eyes wide with shock he looked at House but the man was not looking in his direction. Wilson next to him was also avoiding his gaze.

"My…my father. You're…" It didn't seem possible. This just had to be a bad joke. "House!" He didn't know what he wanted to be told. It was a late April Fool's joke. It was a bet between the two doctors about whether he'd believe it. Anything but that he'd lived a lie, cursing a man who'd had no obligation to him. "Greg…"

"Rowan Chase came to give a lecture series. One of the places was my university. I met a woman. She wanted to get back at her husband. I was…young, horny…stupid." His simple story ended and a long stretch of tense silence began. "I didn't know…until you mentioned your mother, Heather. That was her name."

Chase's mouth was hanging halfway open in shock. He eventually found enough presence of mind to close it but that was all. The rest of his thoughts were consumed with the possibilities and how much he didn't know he still didn't know. Had his father…had Rowan known? Was that why he brushed Robert off so easily, left him nothing when he died? Had his mother known? Had her drunken rages blaming him for the collapse of the marriage been true? Did this explain what had happened between him and House?

"How long have you known?" Chase asked, voice a harsh whisper. "Is this why…" He couldn't say it. It still hurt. The sting of the sudden end, the shock of this revelation the disintegration of the lies his life had been made of; Chase felt like laughing, and Greg wouldn't even meet his eyes.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder and Chase angrily shook it off. He turned accusing eyes to Dr. Wilson, a man who'd also masqueraded as his friend but from the guilty look he'd known too.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The strain of betrayal was so great Wilson didn't know what to do but watch as the identity Chase had managed to accept was shattered. His paltry offerings of comfort weren't going to help. Neither would an apology.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" His yell filled the small room and then it was empty of response. Chase was going to yell again, demand an answer, some justification, some empty words of comfort but his voice vanished and his chest tightened with an undefined pain.

Finally House spoke. "I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to know what…what I'd done…to my own son."

"You are not my father! I had one! He sucked! You…you're not…you're…" His voice was back but his mind didn't have anything coherent to get across using it. He turned away from them, resisting the urge to throw the chair on which he'd previously been resting through the glass wall. Hands tightened into fists he rested them and his forehead on the cool glass and tried to find something that made sense in the mess that was his life.

His father wasn't his father. His father was his friend. His father had been his lover. He probably should have been more revolted by that thought than he actually was. But House wasn't the person his mind had designated as a parent and probably never would be, though in the past few years he'd been a better one than Rowan had ever been.

He turned a little to lean his shoulder against the glass and caught sight of Wilson from the corner of his eye. Who else had known and just watched him stumble along unhappily unaware? Stupid bastards, all of them!

"Tell his doctor and the transplant team they have a donor," Chase informed, his tone deadened. He went for the exit.

"No. You can't."

Chase stopped. When he looked over to House, the man was finally looking at him.

"I'll refuse."

"House!" Wilson interjected, not understanding what the older man was trying to prove.

"You'll refuse. Why? Because you have a better offer or you're just too much of a coward to face the sordid little half of your family?"

"Robert—"

"Shut up! This doesn't have to…to mean anything." Chase was standing over him now, hands gripping his hospital gown in a desperate hold. Angry, glassy eyes pleaded with him to take it all back and though House would have thought it a good idea, when captured in the moment of truth he couldn't.

"I can't love you like you want me to."

He broke the last of what was left from six years ago.

* * *

"How is he?"

"Okay. He had a bit of a fever the second day after the surgery and upper abdominal pain. Turned out to be peritonitis caused by a bile leakage. Gave us quite a scare, but he pulled through." He wouldn't give the details about how sickly Chase had looked during those days. House had his own recovery to get through.

"That's good."

"He hasn't been by, huh?"

Greg shook his head, eyes on the ceiling.

"He just needs time."

House shook his head again and silence lapsed between the two men. Wilson fiddled with the hem of his lab coat, wishing that he could give his friend some good news about the shaky relationship House had with his son.

"Grandpa?"

Wilson and House shifted their gazes to the room's entrance and found two children there. Their blonde hair and blue eyes told them immediately who's children they were (that and they'd both known the kids since their birth) but it took an extra minute to figure out the "grandpa" thing.

"Hey, Nate. Hi Grace," House greeted. The children smiled at him and Nate tried to climb onto the bed but couldn't make it. Wilson helped him up telling him he had to sit right there. Nate agreed. Grace got her usual perch on her Uncle Jimmy's knee. She was Daddy's little girl and it wasn't a surprise to anyone who knew her and knew Wilson to find that the two go along so well. Nathan was more mischievous, more a trouble maker and, also unsurprisingly, he took well to his Uncle House, now christened Grandpa.

"Where's your Daddy?" Wilson asked of the Nathan and Grace.

"A doctor came to see him. The nurse brought us here," Nathan said as he fiddled with House's plastic hospital bracelet.

"Does your Dad know you're here?"

"Uh huh," Nate responded. "He said we should call you Granpa," he informed happily. Just a few feet past him, Wilson was smiling at House as well. If Chase knew both his kids were with his biological father and had told them to call him Grandpa then it wasn't likely that Chase was going to sever all contact with him. House figured as much too, but worried about what it would be like to talk to Chase now. At the moment he didn't think he had the strength for it. The surgery had only been eleven days ago and though his doctors told him that the transplant was taking well and acute rejection didn't seem likely, there were still other problems, medical and personal, that he'd have to deal with.

Eventually, House drifted off to sleep and either it just happened to be the time Nathan and Grace had to go or Wilson had seen the fatigue creeping in and taken them out. Either way it was sometime during his nap that a soft touch to his hand manage to pull him just to this side of consciousness.

"Rob…" was all the fatigued, older man could manage to the blurry, blond holding his hand. He blinked several times and the image cleared a little but his mind remained heavy with sleep.

"Hey. Heard you were doing pretty well," the accented voice said softly and all House could manage in reply to the friendly words was a squeeze of his hand. "Sorry I didn't come by earlier."

"S'okay," House forgave as though it was nothing. Both of them knew it wasn't but Chase had needed time to recover and House knew that. A wordless stretch was next. The beeping of the heart monitor tried valiantly the fill the soundless void but too easily its intermittent tones were tuned-out. "You don't have to stay. If…if you need more time—" Robert's head was already shaking at the statement and his denial was quick.

"No." He swallowed and admitted with difficulty, "I…I need you here." He couldn't hold the blue, dazed stare and had to shift his watch elsewhere. "You should go back to sleep. You need your rest."

House was still staring at him. Later he would thank the drugs they'd pumped into him for his loose lips because then he could blame his next statement on them. "I do lov—"

"I know," Robert interrupted again and at House's annoyed scowl he laughed. "I know. Me too."

Greg would never be certain if what he thought was a tear falling from an eye and down one cheek was real, or was a figment of his imagination. When Robert reached up to scratch at the corner of his nose with his free hand he might have used the motion to quickly wipe it away.

"Get some rest. Grace and Nathan will be by tomorrow. I hear they've been working on some artwork for us," Chase said softly and with a matching smile. House tried to grimace but his smile could still be seen. He'd always mocked children's artwork until he'd receive one of his own from his grandson and then they were posted proudly over the crappy paintings in his office that came with the room.

House fell back into sound, comfortable sleep. When he roused from it some hours later, after the sun had set he found Chase was still there. His hand was still holding that of his friend's but he'd fallen asleep resting his head and one arm on the bed. His face was turned up towards House and though he knew the younger man would be aching later from his sleeping position, House was reluctant to disturb the tranquility of what he knew from the faint signs of lack of sleep, was a much needed rest. He gently extricated his hand from the slack grip and with uncertain fingers he ran his hand through the soft hair falling over the man's head. Chase made a soft snuffling sound and House grinned.

He may not have wanted a child and he may have missed out on those early years full of the common milestones that most every human went through but were so important to loving parents, but he probably wouldn't have been interested back then. He hated to think that it was better this way; Robert growing up in a broken home with a set of distant parents. He'd managed to raise himself into a decent person and House couldn't imagine that he'd have done a better job. Ultimately it didn't matter, because the past had passed and today was today; it was what he had to make the best of. No he hadn't wanted a son, but he didn't want his life to be without the one he'd stumbled upon.

**The End**

Sagga…


End file.
